Of Blowtorches and ScrewDrivers
by hollywood13
Summary: After Booth is found at the end of 2x18, Brennan wonders what happened to her partner in the time that he was missing.
1. What I'm Gonna Live For

**A/N: I quite obviously do not own Bones, or its characters. I'm a sucker for hurt/comfort stories and was never quite satisfied by how this scene played out. Or rather, how it was cut short. This was something I wrote about a year ago, never intending to post on-line. However, now that I have an account, I went back and reconsidered. **

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Booth was still tied to the chair and lay quietly on his side

Booth was still tied to the chair and lay quietly on his side. He looked beaten and worn and was definitely worse for the wear. Brennan watched her partner; worry creasing her brow. He had been missing for over twenty-four hours; what had they done to him in that time? Brennan swiftly gave him a once-over, taking in his shallow breathing and a large crimson stain still wet and sticky with dark blood above his abdomen. She quickly pulled up his shirt to reveal a deep laceration and dark bruises purpling his torso. There was a sharp intake of breath and Booth shied away from her hands.

"Booth, are you alright? You're going to need stitches and it looks like you may have re-fractured you ribs." Brennan asked, concern evident in her voice.

"Definitely feels like I re-fractured my ribs," he echoed her. "I'll be fine Bones, don't worry 'bout me" he replied weakly.

She set about unbinding his wrists and legs, the former, which once free, were pulled close to his sides so as to protectively cradle his torso. Brennan rolled him over to look at him better, noticing his pained expression as she did so. Something brushed his inner leg and Booth swore loudly. Bones further ripped the tear in his black pants and saw ugly blackened flesh surrounding an angry stab wound.

"Booth…"

"Yea Bones?"

"What did they…_do_ to you exactly?" Brennan questioned while gazing transfixed at his leg.

"It's nothing Bones."

Except Brennan didn't believe him. "You've been burned…badly.."

Just then the paramedics arrived and began examining Booth and checking his vitals. Booth, clearly exhausted, closed his eyes.

"I'll be right here Booth. I won't leave you." She told him.

"I know Bones" was his last reply before he slipped into unconsciousness.

Brennan helped the paramedics as best she could. They placed Booth onto a backboard and lifted him onto a stretcher. Brennan, realizing that she lacked both keys and a car requested a lift from the ambulance to the hospital with Booth. They reluctantly agreed and just as she was turning to leave the hangar, she spotted a blowtorch lying a few feet away. Remembering the screwdriver poking out of Lightner's chest, Brennan put two and two together and suddenly understood how Booth sustained the injury to his leg.

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	2. What I'm Gonna Die For

The first thing Booth became aware of as he slowly returned to consciousness was the tightness in his chest

**Ever since that review the other day, I kept thinking of extending the scene. Then, in a fit of insomnia last night, I wrote this bit. Not very long I know, but I'm more used to reading the fanfic than writing it. I have renewed respect for anyone whose chapter exceeds over a page in length. **

The first thing Booth became aware of as he slowly returned to consciousness was the tightness in his chest. His upper body ached and he vaguely noticed that an oxygen mask was covering his nose and mouth, allowing him to breathe easier. It was that, more than anything, the raw taste, and feeling of pure oxygen filling his lungs that cleared his muddled thoughts. His vision swam as he opened his eyes and he blinked once, twice, before he noticed a face looming over him. It was a nice face, with big eyes that stared down at him in stoic concern or relief—he couldn't tell. He inhaled sharply and grunted as the breath he had taken was released in a whoosh and a flash of pain ricocheted across and _inside_ his chest. He panted for a few moments as he caught his breath, Brennan reminding him to inhale through his nose and breathe slowly. He realized then that she was holding his hand.

"We'll be at the hospital soon… You'll probably need a chest x-ray to check for internal bleeding but I don't think you've punctured a lung."

"Bones…"

"Booth, I don't think it's a good idea for you to speak. They've given you medicine to dull the pain but you shouldn't push yourself." She paused. "You'll be okay Booth. You will." Booth wondered if it was more for her benefit than his.

"I know Bones" he sighed.

The driver yelled to his partner that their ETA was 10 minutes. The steady rocking of the ambulance was making Booth very tired. He thought he might like to go back to sleep.

**So…only 1 review last chapter (though it was a very nice review). Shall I continue?**

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	3. Who I'm Gonna Fight For

A/N I do not own Bones

**A/N I do not own Bones. Surprise, surprise. **

**I enabled anonymous reviews. I appreciate all the reviews and positive criticism. I figured I'd make one more chapter after this, to take us through the diner scene. But no worries, I have an idea for another mini story revolving around Wanna Be in the Weeds. Watch for that. **

He jolted awake as they lowered him from the ambulance. They moved quickly. But not too quickly, he wasn't actually a critical patient. He was swiftly rolled into the doors of the ambulance bay while Brennan followed closely behind. He grunted again when they mistakenly brushed his burned leg while transferring him to a gurney. Brennan frowned at the paramedics and they looked down in embarrassment.

The hospital smelled strongly of antiseptic. The smell washed over him as he rode through the halls, leaving him dizzy and with the beginnings of a small headache forming behind his left eye. They brought him to a room with a long row of white beds against a wall. Equipment surrounded each standard, hospital issue bed. Pale green curtains separated each patient, offering only a mere hint of privacy.

He was asked all sorts of questions about past injuries, namely the ones he had sustained from Brennan's-Exploding-Refrigerator last year. Brennan became the self-appointed authority on such matters and often cut in to explain his injuries in a more detailed and complex manner (usually incorporating the use of many big words). He gave them a detailed medical history while the pretty nurses bustled about, inserting his IV and making sure he was comfortable. A doctor performed a routine exam, poking and prodding. Does that hurt? What about this? And here? The questions continued but finally the reunited partners were left alone. He took the opportunity to remind Brennan how much he hated hospitals.

"They're too clean, Bones. It isn't natural."

Brennan told him he was being irrational. He was surprised, however, when she asked if he wanted pudding. Booth, of course, agreed and she asked a passing orderly to bring two cups of vanilla and an extra chocolate. She helped him open the container, though she suspected he could do it just fine himself. It was reminiscent of their last hospital visits, she thought, as she brought the chocolaty spoon to her mouth.

They waited, he and Brennan, while they treated his leg for second degree burns and he was sent for a chest CT. Brennan told him about her father, how Max had helped her search for him and how she and her team of Squints had deduced that he was being held in Gallagher's airplane hangar. Brennan did _not _tell him how she had punched Veleska Miller. She pressed him about what had happened in the time that he was missing. He told her about how 'Ice-Pick' had gotten the drop on him (the first time in ten years!), took his gun, and limped away. He told her how Gallagher and Lightner had found him; all trussed up like a thanksgiving turkey. Brennan knew not to push him, however, when Booth glossed over his time spent with the two criminals. She had a pretty good understanding of what had happened without him telling her. Angela called while a surgical intern was stitching Booth's abdomen to inform Brennan that Lightner's surgery had been successful and he would make an almost complete recovery. This was good news; he could now be held accountable for the kidnapping and assault of a police office (among other charges). In all the distractions, Brennan had almost forgotten about the screwdriver that had (most unfortunately) found its way into Lightner's chest. Assuring Angela for the third time that Booth was fine, she promised to have Booth visit the lab late the next morning.

And so it was, roughly three and a half hours later, that Booth left the hospital on crutches, a hefty dose of subscribed pain medication rattling in his right pocket. He received many fervent warnings from his doctor and three nurses (who smiled at him sweetly) to "stay off his damn leg" as Brennan filled out his discharge papers. Still in his ruined dress shirt and trousers, bloody and battered looking, heady with vicodine, and with two fractured ribs, Booth and Brennan slowly made their way into the hospital parking lot to find the fast Italian car that Angela and Hodgins had dropped off.

**By the way, the chapter titles are lyrics from the song **_**The Quest**_** by Bryn Christopher. I was listening to my ****iPod**** the other night and just thought the lyrics fit. It's an awesome song. Check it out.**

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	4. Now I've Found a Place to Go

A/N: God, I'm awful. I know this. By now, you too should know this. But, here it is (better late than never, right?). Please consider it a 'thank you' of sorts just in time for the Thanksgiving holidays. If you're a US native that is. If not, well then, just consider it a Thank You :)

Ch. 4:

Now I've Found a Place to Go

They stopped briefly at Booth's house so that he could change into something slightly less blood-stained and morbid and then headed to Brennan's for a change of clothes as well. As Brennan headed to the back Booth heaved himself onto the sofa and let the painless bliss allow him to sit heavy-lidded and content deep between the cushions. He almost didn't notice when she returned to her sitting room (except not really, because _of_ _course _he noticed. He always did).

She sank next to him and pushed something soft and crumbly into his hand. He took a bite and around a mouthful of cookie he asked, "What's this?"

"Snickerdoodle. My dad brought them for me."

"How come?"

"Apparently they're my favorite. Or they were anyway."

"That was nice of him," Booth offered. Brennan remained silent next to him. Then after several moments "Do you want to go get a cup of coffee? At the diner, I mean? If you're not too tired, that is."

He was tired. Exhausted really. But he could do coffee. If it meant spending more time with her. He grinned at her, "Sure. I'll even let you drive."

"I figured as much," she responded dryly.

As Booth crutched out the door Brennan grabbed the dolphin and tore the note her father and written from the pad of paper and carefully placed them in her purse. She grabbed her keys and headed towards the car.

The drive to the diner was quick and quiet. There was little traffic at that hour and neither felt the need to fill the silence with trivial chatter. Instead, Booth watched the streets of D.C. pass by his window and Brennan occasionally shot him calculating looks when she thought he wasn't looking. She steered her car into a front parking space and clicked the release button on her seat belt. She popped her trunk before opening her car door and went around to the rear of the car to retrieve Booth's crutches. He had already opened his door and hopped out in his haste to prove that he wasn't helpless but Brennan shot him a withering look and he reconsidered fetching his own crutches in lieu of appeasing his partner. They sat at their customary table and placed their order.

When their coffee had been delivered Brennan questioned, "Why didn't you just tell them about Kennedy?" while bringing her cup to her lips.

"Well, you know, I needed to give you time to find me," Booth looked up and Brennan eyed him dubiously as he continued "and, I've been tortured worse."

She believed he had. His x-rays stood out in her mind's eye. The white lines stark reminders of the pain he'd bared.

She gazed at him with an indiscernible expression on her face. Not sympathy Booth was relieved to see. He didn't need sympathy. He'd had plenty when he'd returned home from the Middle East. But it was something akin to sadness and understanding. If she knew though, of everything that had happened while _they_ had held him, would that look change? If she knew the whole story, of everything he'd seen, everything he'd done, would she look at him with pity and horror? Everything he knew about her told him otherwise, yet he was still reluctant to disclose the stories of his past. One day, he decided. But not now. He wasn't ready. He wasn't ready for the way she looked at him to change.

And so it was okay that he changed the subject to that of her father and the note he left because one day Booth would tell her The Stories, but for tonight? Tonight they would sing an old song and eat pie. And he would allow her to distract him from the ghosts that haunt his days and nights and she would allow him to distract her from the fear and pain that was losing him. And together they would find relief, if only for a few hours.

Dare I even ask for reviews? I certainly don't deserve them. I'm still going to ask though. Very nicely. :)


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